


Even Though My Dizzy Head Is Numb

by cherishedlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Caring Louis, Fluff, M/M, Needy Harry, Sick Harry, Sickfic, another sickfic what, because why the fuck not, but that doesn't work out so well, once again this is just fluff, they try to keep louis away from harry, they're my favorite ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:38:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishedlarry/pseuds/cherishedlarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is sick and Louis is rebellious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Though My Dizzy Head Is Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "The Only Reason" by 5SOS (unf yes).

Harry was lonely. Lonely and congested. Lonely, congested, and _sad_.

He hated this. Hated the fan who had contaminated him with her sneeze (but, no, not really because Harry didn’t hate many people). Hated the fact that he had absolutely no energy or motivation to do anything besides lay in bed and mope. And he especially hated the fact that he wasn’t allowed to see any of the boys. And that included his blue eyed boyfriend.

Whenever one of them got sick, their team treated it like it was the _end of the world_. As if Harry was a zombie and was going to attack, single-handedly causing the dreaded zombie apocalypse everyone feared. _Don’t leave your room_ they ordered and _don’t let anyone in_ they said and _here, take all ten of these medicines to make you feel better_ they suggested.

But _no_ Harry didn’t want to listen to them. Because their strategies for making him better just weren’t going to work. Because he wasn’t allowed to see Louis.

Having one member of the band down was bad enough but having two was absolutely out of the question. Because all their team cared about was the money. Not about Harry’s sanity or Louis’ desires. Only money. Money makes the world go round, right?

 _No_ Harry thinks bitterly. _Love does_. And yeah, ok, maybe that sounds really lame but it’s the _truth_. And Harry has always lived his life by honesty. Ha. _Ha-ha_. Isn’t that the most ironic statement of the century?

Because, truthfully, Harry’s life was one big lie wasn’t it? But Harry didn’t like to think of his life in that way. He preferred to think of it as a waiting game. He was waiting for the right moment to finally come out with the truth. No pun intended. Ok _fine_ pun fully intended.

And what was he saying? Oh right, love makes the world go round. Apparently their team hadn’t quite figured that out yet. Because, if they had, Louis would be there with him instead of being in his own hotel room down the hall. They couldn’t even give Louis the room right next door, the bastards. Because that was just how terrible they were.

If they truly wanted Harry to get better, they would allow his boyfriend to be by his side. No matter what the consequences. Because Louis would rather get himself sick than stay away from Harry to remain healthy. Because, in his hotel room just down the hall, Louis was so _lonely_.

He wanted to be there for Harry. Wanted to cuddle him and make him tea and make sure he was comfortable and do _whatever_ Harry needed him to do.

Louis felt restless sitting alone in his hotel room. He couldn’t even remember the last time he hadn’t been allowed to share a room with Harry. They always shared a room, spending their time tangled together and whispering sweet words into exposed skin. Louis really didn’t like this whole separation thing. Harry had been in quarantine for less than 24 hours but Louis was already falling apart. Plus, Louis had been forbidden to even so much as _text_ Harry because _he needs his rest Louis_. “Rest” his _ass_ because he knew for a fact Harry wouldn’t be getting much sleep without him by his side, no matter how sick he was.

And it’s not like Louis had the relief of seeing Harry at concerts or signings. No, Harry just _had_ to get sick when the boys had a few days off in the city. A city Harry’s delirious mind couldn’t exactly remember the name of.

Harry was warm, blankets a lovely comfort against his feverish skin. But his mind was far from comfortable and his heart is practically tearing at the seams because he needs his Louis. But his Louis isn’t exactly “welcome” according to their team.

The bed felt so empty without another warm body beside him. Harry’s fever was getting worse and he just wished he had someone to cuddle up to. And, by someone, he meant Louis. Obviously.

Couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather spend the rest of his days with. Days which may quickly come to an end if Harry doesn’t start getting better soon.

His vision was blurry, mind a jumbled mess of delirium. He couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think, body feeling as if a fucking elephant was sitting on his chest. Harry was a right mess.

He wasn’t entirely sure of the time. Some place in the wee hours of the morning, no doubt, but Harry just couldn’t fall asleep. Even though he was absolutely exhausted, the combination of a hacking cough and an aching heart prevented him from getting much rest. Because Harry just wanted his _Louis_ and _ugh_.

Harry suddenly heard a quiet knock on the door. Chalking it up to either delirium or just one of the security guards checking on him for basically the millionth time, Harry closes his eyes, letting his body sink into the plush mattress again. He’s just about to fall asleep when another knock, this time louder, sounds throughout the room.

And, ok, so it probably wasn’t one of their guards because they all have keys to get in his room. They would have simply waltzed in by now. So whoever was knocking probably didn’t have a key and was, in turn, expecting the despondent boy to fucking _get out_ of his bed and answer the bloody door. So inconsiderate, whoever it was.

Releasing a rather overdramatic (not that Harry’s willing to admit that) groan, Harry miraculously managed to disentangle his body from the duvet and stand up. He swayed on his feet once he was vertical and, after closing his eyes and steadying himself against the bedside table, he finally managed to come back to earth. He peeled his eyes open, flicking on the lamp beside him so he’s not completely stumbling in the dark. Because, even when well, Harry wasn’t exactly the most coordinated person. So a combination of sickness and darkness was sure to lead to his demise.

With sweatpants sitting way too low on his hips to be considered normal and a ratty t-shirt rumpled and hanging off one of his shoulders, Harry manages to make his way over to the door with very minimal tripping. A feat in which he mentally high-fives himself about. With a weak hand (because, truthfully, Harry hadn’t been eating and drinking all that much) he swung open the heavy door.

To say he was shocked when he opened the door would be an understatement. Actually, at first, he was more disbelieving than anything. It had to be the fever. Because there was no way, just _no way_ this was actually happening. It seriously couldn’t be…

“Louis?” Harry asked, voice barely managing to leave his throat and _oh shit_ that hurt. Note to self: no more talking. That shit was painful.

Louis smiled slightly at him, eyes panicked and wild. “Hi love. Mind if I come in?” Louis asked, voice frantic, eyes looking back and forth down the hall.

Harry nodded once, stepping out of the way to let Louis in. Louis practically ran inside, shutting the door quietly behind him so as not to alert anyone of his presence in Harry’s room. Louis, now leaning against the door, let out a deep breath, closing his eyes. He popped them open soon after, taking in Harry’s disheveled appearance. “Shit babe. Let’s get you back into bed,” Louis said, voice laced with concern.

Louis placed a comforting arm around Harry’s waist, leading his weary body back towards the comforts of the hotel bed. And even though Harry was wearing a t-shirt _holy shit_ Louis could feel his skin practically burning through the fabric.

“Babe you’re so hot,” Louis said once Harry was sitting on the mattress. Harry looked up at Louis, meeting his eyes.

“I’m flattered,” Harry said, voice even deeper and more gravely than usual and _wow_ Louis didn’t think that was possible. “But flattery won’t get you into m’ pants when I’m feeling this shitty.”

Louis rolled his eyes, brushing some of Harry’s messy fringe away from his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant. When’s the last time you took some medicine?”

Harry shook his head as if that was an answer. “You don’t remember?” Louis questioned, trying to decipher what Harry was getting at.

Harry looked down guiltily, playing with his fingers. And _oh_ maybe Harry’s shake of the head had actually been his answer. “You… you haven’t taken any at all have you,” Louis more stated than questioned.

Because, truthfully, the fact that Harry hadn’t taken any medicine wasn’t much of a shock. Because Harry was _Harry_. He never liked to admit when he was weak or needed help. He took care of himself and “didn’t need some stupid medicine” to make him feel better. Medicine hadn’t always been around and people had survived. So why couldn’t he?

Louis, however, was the opposite. He thought it was only fair to take advantage of the medical advances that had been made. One of which was medicine.

“Harry, you have to take something,” Louis said, walking away from Harry, looking around for the bag of various medicines Paul had given the ill boy.

“Don’t wanna,” Harry stated, punctuating the statement with a wet cough. It took him awhile to get it under control and, once he did, he groaned as he flopped backwards onto the bed, tucking himself back into it. He wrapped the blankets tightly around his body, leaning back against the mountain of pillows he had created.

“’Don’t wanna’ my ass,” Louis chided as he made his way back over to the bed with a bottle of medicine in hand. He sat down beside Harry’s sprawled out body, practically feeling Harry’s heat radiating off his body. He unscrewed the lid (which definitely did _not_ take him a few minutes because of the childproof lid) and poured the nasty smelling liquid into the little plastic cup. “You’re taking it,” Louis said, carefully thrusting the full cap towards his withering boyfriend.

“M’not. Makes me sleepy,” Harry said, pouting at Louis.

“How would you know? S’not like you’ve taken it.”

“Always does,” Harry replied.

“Well, it’s not like you’re going anywhere. I’ll make you some tea and give you a cuddle if you take it.”

And _oh_ how could Harry say no to that? He reached out a shaky hand, taking the medicine from Louis.

“Here, hang on. I’ll get you some water to wash it down,” Louis said, pushing himself off the bed once Harry had a firm grip on it. Well, as firm a grip as his sick-ridden muscles would allow. Harry patiently waited (and, truthfully, Harry would wait forever if it meant he didn’t have to take the medicine) for Louis to return. Louis filled a glass and then walked back over to Harry, sitting down once again.

Harry took the glass in his left hand, letting out a deep breath. He really didn’t want to do this but Louis was just so persistent and Harry was so in love and was, ultimately, willing to do anything Louis asked of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, knocking back the medicine as if it were a shot of vodka. His face contorted (rather cutely, Louis couldn’t help but think) and he quickly chugged down the glass of water, not particularly caring how painful the action was on his throat. After he was done, the awful taste of the medicine still lingering on his tongue, he handed both the cap and the glass to Louis who was staring at him with a look of both amusement and sympathy.

“Alright?” Louis questioned, trying to keep his lingering smirk out of his tone. He really shouldn’t find this as comical as he did. Harry nodded, leaning his head back against the pillows without even bothering to open his eyes. The only good thing about taking liquid medicine was that it seemed to coat his throat, bringing him a welcomed relief. He knew it wouldn’t last long but he was grateful all the same.  

Harry cracked his eyes open then, lids weighed down with exhaustion and sickness. “Wait,” his voice came out unbelievably scratchy. “What are you doing here?”

And Louis was really somewhat not even a little bit offended.

“It’s nice to see you too.” Yeah, ok, so Harry was sick and delirious but that didn’t mean Louis had to tone down the “sass” as Niall so kindly put it.

Harry rolled his eyes as best as he could, giving Louis one of his unamused looks he had quite nearly perfected over the years. When you had a boyfriend like Louis, you tended to get a lot of practice in that department. “S’nice to see you but… you can’t be here. I’ll get you sick. And Paul will have my head. Yours too,” Harry half-heartedly argued. Because _yeah_ Louis wasn’t technically allowed in Harry’s room and _yeah_ he knew what the repercussions would be but that didn’t mean he wasn’t thankful that Louis was with him.

Louis shrugged, getting up from the bed. “You should know by now that I don’t play by the rules Harry. They can’t keep me away from you,” Louis said, walking towards the kitchen to clean both the cap and the glass.

“They keep you away from me all the time. With Eleanor. You go out with Eleanor,” Harry slurred, fever hindering his speech. Thank God Louis got some medicine in him when he did.

Louis lightly placed the things on the counter, movements halting for a split second once he processed what Harry had said. He placed his palms onto it as well, leaning his weary body onto them. He closed his eyes, letting out a silent sigh. Because _no_ Louis didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Not when Harry was ill. Not even when Harry was well.

So Louis grabbed the tea kettle from one of the cabinets, filled it, and placed it on the stovetop. He was stalling, he knew that, but Harry needed his tea and he just wasn’t in the mood to talk about Eleanor. He never was but even more so now.

He flicked his fringe out of his face before walking over to join Harry, knowing the conversation was inevitable. The two had talked about it quite often, Louis frequently asking Harry how he was holding up whenever an impending date with Eleanor was on the horizon. And especially after. After was always the worst.

But, right now, Harry was sick and delirious and Louis just _didn’t want to talk about it_. He sighed heavily once he reached the horizontal boy, laying down in the bed beside him. Harry turned his head to look at Louis, eyes hooded and unfocused. Louis reached out a hand and began to play with Harry’s hair, the succulent curls sliding easily through his fingertips. Almost as if they belonged there. Which they did. Harry belonged with Louis and Louis belonged with Harry.

“You know I always come back to you,” Louis whispered into the quiet.

Harry closed his eyes, frowning. “Go away for a long time,” Harry childishly remarked and _wow_ the poor kid was so far gone at this point. What even were sentences anymore?

“I know love. But I’m here now. And Eleanor will be gone soon ok?”

“Where’s she going?” Harry asked, voice impossibly slow.

Louis smiled then, giving Harry a look that could only be described as _fondfondfond_ even though Harry’s eyes weren’t open to see it. “Contract’s ending soon babe, remember? Then it’s just you and me,” Louis said, nothing but confidence in his voice.

“M’gonna marry you,” Harry said, opening his eyes then. And _wow_ ok. Of course the two had talked about what the future held for them before. Had always said they planned on getting married. But hearing it fall from Harry’s lips still made Louis’ heart twist and stomach flip.

“I know,” Louis whispered, wanting so desperately to kiss Harry. But he was more than likely already going to get sick from being in the same room, let alone the same bed, as Harry. But Louis just didn’t _care_.

“An’ we’ll have a small wedding. Just us. An’ the boys. An’ our families. I’ll wear a tux. And you’ll wear a dress.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why am _I_ wearing the dress?” Louis cut Harry off from his wedding rambles.

“’Cause you’re the girl,” Harry said simply, as if it was just _so_ obvious. Harry closed his eyes again, unable to keep his heavy lids open, and snuggled closer into Louis’ hand that was still stroking through his curls. “An’ you’ve got the curves for it.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Louis almost screeched. Harry flinched beside him, the high-pitched sound hurting his already pounding head.

“Never. Love your curves,” Harry purred just as soon as the kettle started whistling.

With a final swoop through Harry’s curls, Louis hoisted himself off the bed and set about making Harry’s tea which consisted solely of sugar. Louis didn’t understand how anyone could drink tea with so much sugar in it. Tea was fine in and of itself. But _be generous with the sugar Lou_ Harry always said. And just because Louis didn’t agree with Harry’s tea habits didn’t mean he wouldn’t make it exactly how he wanted. He poured himself a cup as well, forgoing the milk (considering they didn’t have any and Louis wasn’t about to go down to the lobby to buy some) and decided to drink it as is.

Carrying the steaming cups towards Harry’s bedside, he placed one on the table closest to Harry and walked around to the other side of the bed. He snuggled up closer to the drowsy boy as Harry attempted to sit up to drink his tea.

Taking his first sip, Harry’s eyes practically rolled to the back of his head because _oh dear god_ that felt so good on his throat. Plus it tasted heavenly. Louis always, somehow, made it just right. And Harry was so, so in love with him.

The two boys drank their tea in silence, the only sounds being the occasional slurps, sporadic coughs and sniffles from Harry, and the shuffling of limbs on hotel sheets. Once Harry was done, he laid back down after placing his now empty cup back on the bedside table. His limbs were heavy with warmth, sickness, and medicine and he knew he wouldn’t be conscious for much longer. His mind was muddled, eyes bleary. He managed to scoot himself over to Louis, flopping his deadweight limbs across Louis’ body and resting his head on Louis’ chest. His arm curled protectively around Louis’ stomach, legs tangling with his boyfriend’s.

And even though Harry was still absolutely boiling with fever and even though his body seemed to be about twice as large as Louis’, Louis was content. He finished his tea soon after, placing the mug onto his own table, and shimmied his body down. He lay on his back, allowing Harry a moment to readjust to the new position. From the way Harry’s breaths had slowed and his body seemed to be getting heavier as each second passed, Louis could tell he was close to sleep. And thank god for that.

The light was still on, neither boy paying much attention to it earlier. Usually Harry needed to sleep in complete darkness but tonight wasn’t like most nights. Within about a minute of Louis laying down, Harry’s familiar snores started up, causing a smile to spread on Louis’ lips. Harry’s hot breath was practically scalding Louis’ skin through his t-shirt but, once again, he just didn’t care. Because Harry was settled and that’s what mattered.

A few minutes later, with the comfort of Harry’s body on top of his and the sound of his quickly escalating snores, Louis felt his own mind being pulled to sleep to which he gladly gave in.

And when Paul came in the following morning to find the two boys tangled together in a mess of limbs and blankets, well, he couldn’t say it was much of a surprise.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts can be submitted either in the comments below or in a message on my Tumblr (realizedyouweemissing). However, please keep in mind I have 3 other prompts I have yet to do so it may be awhile before I get to yours. But I still recommend that you send me some because I'm a writing major and I really need to work on my skillzzzzz (which I have none of but ok). :)
> 
> Oh and please follow me on Twitter to keep up with my daily shenanigans (@cherishedlarry) <3


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